


Blood Sister

by Kyky25



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Hemospectrum, Multi, Mutants, Mutation, Original Character(s), Religion, Revolution, Romance Problems, Siblings, i'll add more when i think of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyky25/pseuds/Kyky25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the twelve trolls play SGRUB they think they destroy their planet and everyone on it.<br/>The truth is they didn't.<br/>This is the story of what happens when both the Condesce and the Heiress vanish and the Empire is left in turmoil.</p><p>Oh, and Karkat's sister starts a revolution.</p><p>Alternate Title: What to do if you're Jegus reincarnate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an idea that popped into my head nearly a year ago along with the name ‘Azalea Vantas’. I finally decided to act on my ideas for once and out came this story. No, I did not make her Karkat's sister just for fun, there are plot reasons.  
> If you spot any mistakes in my work please tell me and I’ll do my best to fix them immediately.  
> The story is actually updating in parts on the MSPA Forums so if you want to read things sooner head over [here.](http://mspaforums.com/showthread.php?56382-Blood-Sister-%28%28or-What-to-do-if-you-re-Jegus-reincarnate%29%29)  
> Edit: Grr...Why does AO3 not have a prologue or chapter number editing system? Okay, Just take 1 off the chapter number if you want the real one.

Mutations in the incestuous slurry wherein the troll race is formed are more common than society cares to admit. An extra leg here, and abnormally long neck there and other, subtler changes to the genes nearly everywhere. This is a good thing as it stops the gene pool from stagnating, for however much troll society is rooted in the past it must continue on the road that is evolution.

Most of the more bizarre mutations are destroyed when the freshly pupated troll is going through the trials of the brooding caverns. Many more are culled by the drones that wait at the egress, searching for young who don’t belong. Others are wiped out during the course of the trolls’ childhood, when they are ignorant or unlucky enough for their mutation to come into the light of one who follows the practice of culling those who are different. The whole of society has been constructed to obliterate change, which can be good in some respects. Some mutations that occur are not fit to see the light of the moons and Alternia is better with them gone.

However, there are still some mutations that slip under the radar, whether helped by outside forces or not. Mutations such as psionic powers twice as strong as the norm, the throwback genes required to sprout wings when grown, the ability to thrive in light and be revived upon death albeit with some dietary changes.

Mutations such as blood of a hue that does not exist anywhere on the hemospectrum.

The most famous, or infamous rather, example of that particular mutation is the Sanguine Sufferer. The story that follows is not about him. However, and no one knows how or even who the second and third parties were, he was able to pass on his genetic code.

Another mutant. This one destined to play a game and go through hardships one so young should never face.

This story is not about him either. It is about the aftermath. It is about his sister.

The definition of sibling in troll society is ‘one who is hatched with the same symbol within the same lifespan’ although the second section is is regarded rather loosely amongst the upper classes due to their longevity. Most sibling pairs happen as twins with the Mother Grub laying two eggs from the same fertilisation slurry rather than the usual one. The vast majority of siblings are boy-boy or girl-girl (as much as is differentiated between trolls) but the mutation of gender is not an impossibility.

It is rare for these occasional sibling pairs to ever meet, rare for them to even know the other exists. But exist they do, with their own personalities, interests and destinies; intertwined with the past and with each other.

There is no denying the existence of our protagonist. After all, she did start the rebellion that reshaped a whole empire.


	2. Chapter 1 - A late Wriggling day

A young troll sits in her respite block, writing stories in a black workbook. it just so happens that today, of all days, is nothing particularly special. The teleaudio-viewing grub in the corner of the room is active, the volume low but loud enough for the news report to be heard.

“Tonight marks the third night in the disappearance of Her Imperious Condescension along with her flagship and, presumably, all on board. Reports have also come in that the abdicated heiress, Feferi Peixes, has also gone missing along with several of her associates. Her lusus, Gl’Bgolyb, passed away quietly sometime in the last 72 hours, a fact which investigators have yet to link to the missing princess or empress.

“In other news the meteor shower passing Alternia shows no sign of ceasing for the next few days. Astronomers say there is nothing to fear as the rocks are too small to make it through the atmosphere without burning up. To reassure some of the wimpier wrigglers out there I have been asked to say there have been no reports of any meteor strikes anywhere on the planet. 

“There has been news of the High Council of Seadwellers deciding to krsrssshshhhhhhhhh……”

The troll sighs and stands. _This is what happens when you buy a cheap viewing grub, what else were you expecting?_ she thinks as she walks over the the static filled husk.

After giving the grub a few whacks with the flat of a hand and eventually giving up and turning it off the troll stands and looks around her room. Her gaze passes over the-

What?

You want me to write this in second person?

You do realise how stupid that is, right? When was the last time you read a book written in second person?

No, I’m not counting recipe books there.

Ugh, fine. But you can’t be her until she has a name.

Got one? Good. Can I go back to writing this normally now?

he-hem...

You are now Azalea Vantas, self-proclaimed tealblood and lover of literature. You have a passion for stories, especially ones with hidden meanings and morals, and are a reasonable storyteller yourself. You are an advocate for lowblood rights and believe that all trolls are hatched equal. You can get pretty preachy about it in fact and often have to be dragged off your soapbox by a friend if you get started on the topic. You enjoy the occasional film, romcoms especially, but do not get out much due to a, err… condition of yours that prevents you from going out in public too often. This does not stop you from living in a city however and you love watching the hustle and bustle of life from the window of your penthouse hivestem block.

The trolltag you currently use is chimaericGuide and you ...Normally like to think a69ut what you say before you speak. You don’t have many friends due to spending most of your time hiding in your respiteblock but the few you do have you aren’t overly close to. That is, aside from-

“ _Azziiiiiiiii!!!!!_ ”

Ah, yes. Her.

Your best friend in the galaxy bursts into your room and gives you a huge hug. You’re not romantically involved or anything, she’s just a huggy person. And absurdly energetic. For a girl nearly a sweep older than you she sure acts like a little kid.

“Hey Elli!” you gasp. _Why are her hugs always so *tight*?_

“Happy wriggling day Azi! I didn’t get you a present but I’ve got a really good idea for something really fun we can do!” She releases you and holds you at arms length for a second then lets go and starts heading towards your garment storage unit.

“My wriggling day was three nights ago. I think you’re getting dates mixed up again.”

“What!?” she say, her head poking around the now open door of the storage unit, a black shirt hanging off one of her long horns. “Nonononono no. Your wriggling day is today if I say it’s today. Otherwise I’d have to wait another SWEEP before we can do this!”

“What are we actually doing again?”

“Explain later, go put this on!”

And then she shoves you in the direction of the ablution chamber, handing you some sort of clothing and shutting the door in your face. You stand there and just blink for a few seconds, wondering what the hell had just happened before shaking yourself out of it and having a look at the clothing in your hands.

It’s the dress that Elli had given you, _had specially made for you,_ for 12th Perigree’s Eve a few weeks ago. Black and relatively form-fitting but still plenty loose enough to move, a bit shorter than knee length and edged in some sort of lace, a one-shoulder affair where you stepped in through the neck and did up the strap using the clasp shaped like your symbol. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever been given but, even as you pulled it out of its wrapping, you knew you’d never get the chance to wear it in a million sweeps.

You open the door and step out of the ablution chamber. El, who had been looking out the window, turns around quickly with a huge grin which shrank considerably when she sees the dress still in your claws.

“Does it not fit or something? I can make some adjustments, I’ve got some thread here som-”

“Mhelli...”

She stopps rummaging in her sylladex. You never use her name unless it’s important, you normally just stick to Elli or El. 

“Mhelli, where are we going?”

“umm...well...there’s this new club in the Alpha district. It’s normally closed for anyone below jade but, well, there’s this big party happening so it’s open to everyone and I, uh, I thought it would be fun…”

You sigh. It really amazes you how few friends she has for such a nice troll.

“You know how dangerous it is for me to go out, especially somewhere as crowded as a dayclub. I’m not saying I don’t want to, I’m just saying that I can’t.” You walk over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“oh...okay then…” Her head hung dejectedly, and she makes a motion indicating she was headed to the door.

You bite your lip and then regret it. _Ouch._ You can’t bear to see your best friend, _your only friend,_ look like this. You know that for such a social creature she doesn’t get the chance to get out much because she doesn’t like to leave you behind. She has done so much for you over the sweeps, you owe her this much.

“Wait, Mhelli,” She looks around, hopefulness plastered across her expressive face. “I think that, as long as we don’t stay too long, it should be okay.”

Her face splits into a grin that you could have sworn would make the top of her head fall off. “OH THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!” At this point she had grabbed your arms just below the shoulders and was now jumping about in circles with you at the centre.

“Okay, okay. I get that you’re excited. Now may you please stop pretending that I’m a spinning top?”

She lets go quickly and stops jumping around, but you can tell her boundless energy is ready to burst out at any second. She lets out a small, awkward laugh and smiles shyly.

“Come on,” you say, smiling back. “Let’s get this party started.”

 

* * *

 

A quick change and a hastily scribbled note to your lusus later and you are out the door of your hivestem, being pulled along by the infectious joy of your best friend. It’s pretty obvious that she hasn’t done anything like this in quite a while and you feel a pang of guilt for not being a better friend.

_She deserves more than me for a friend. Hell, no one deserves to be my friend._

You banish the thought from your mind. You are a good troll, and a good friend, you reassure yourself. The self-hatred isn’t a new thing but lately it’s been cropping up more and more. You always tried to stop it but you being…well, you…it was hard to lie to yourself sometimes.  
Oops, Mhelli was just trying to talk to you.

“Oh, sorry. I was a bit zoned out there,” you say, an awkward smile gracing your face.

“Heh, it’s okay! I was just wondering if we should maybe get a communal scuttlebuggy there or not. I mean, it’s not that long of a walk but it means we’ll get there faster and, well, you do like your privacy and…” She trails off, both of you knowing what she meant. But today you don’t care. It may have been meant to be a celebration of your sixth Wriggling day but you’re going to make this about her. She deserves to have one day of fun.

“It’s up to you, I really don’t mind.”

At that she grins even wider, then sticks two claws in her mouth and lets out a piercing whistle, hailing a communal scuttlebuggy. You wince slightly and raise one hand to your auricular sponge clots.

“Heh-heh, sorry.”

You both share a smile as the scuttlebuggy pulls up next to you then clamber in, Mhelli shuffling over to the far seat. She enters the address on the directional navigation console and the vehicle whirs into motion, its metallic legs clicking and clacking on the surface of the scuttleway outside. You relax in cushioned comfort, doing your best to ignore the slightly odd smell left by previous occupants, and let the flow of Mhelli’s constant conversation wash over you.

It’s not long before you start drifting off to sleep, rocked gently by the motion of the scuttlebuggy and calmed by the voice of your friend, who hasn’t noticed your drooping eyelids. In the haze between states of consciousness time slows. You think about waking up - after all, your friend is talking to you and you’ll arrive soon enough, but you dismiss the thought. _Just a few seconds longer._

You begin to dream, that strange sort of dream where you’re lucid enough to control things but dozy enough that you don’t want to. The interior of the scuttlebuggy melts away and it turns out that rocking, bumping motion you feel isn’t coming from a buggy at all but from the meteor you are sitting on as it hurtles through the blackness that surrounds you. You wave your tiny legs about, helpless as a wiggler. In fact, you ARE a wiggler. But then you’re not you, you’re just looking down at a wiggler that looks like you. Your disembodied consciousness follows the meteor, following the not-you. Something huge and blue and glowing looms up in front of you - there is a flash of light and you prepare yourself for impact and-

“Hey, Az. Azalea, wake up.”

Your eyes snap open to see Mhelli leaning over you, nudging you awake, eyes filled with… _is that pity?_

_No, no. It can’t be. Why would anyone pity a miserable excuse for a troll like you?_

You sit up, rubbing your ocular sockets and feeling like you had just slept for a thousand sweeps.

“Uuungh….how long was I out?”

“Heehee! Only a minute or two,” she replies, smiling as always. Her over-expressive face creases with worry. “When was the last time you got a good day’s sleep?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll be fine.” You wave off her concern dismissively. You don’t want her worrying about you. “It was just the motion of the-“

And then you realise what is missing. The communal scuttlebuggy had stopped.

“Come on, I only woke you up because we’re here!” She quickly opens her wing aperture and climbs out, nearly tripping over her own skinny limbs in her excitement.

You step out after her, shivering a little in the cool pre-dawn breeze. You mumble under your breath a description of the jacket you had quickly captchaed as Mhelli dragged you out of your hive to retrieve it from your sylladex.

“A short black cardigan with three-quarter length sleeves made from fine-knit wool with a medium-sized teal symbol over the left breast and three buttons made from-“

You’re cut off from your description as the item of clothing falls out of your sylladex and into your waiting claws. You love your description modus but it’s always hard to tell the level of description required to retrieve an item.

Quickly pulling on the jacket you pick up your pace in order to catch up with Mhelli, who is quite literally skipping to the entrance of the dayclub. You draw even just as the pair of you reach the back of the short but rapidly growing line. It seems that this is *the* place to be for the night. You start to shuffle nervously as a crowd forms around you.

 _It would only take one slip, one sharp edge, one wrong word, one mistake._ You shake your head, trying to dislodge your fears. When that doesn’t work you hunch your shoulders and sink down a bit, making yourself even shorter against your friend. She sees your worry and grabs your shoulders, giving you a little shake in excitement.

By the time you reach the front of the queue the line behind you had tripled in length compared to when you first joined. You walk up to the doortroll on duty: a large, overly muscular troll wearing heavy clothes to guard his skin from the light. He looked the pair of you up and down, seemingly reluctant to let Mhelli in. You just smile at him kindly while Mhelli grins and does her best to stop herself jumping about in excitement. Eventually satisfied, he makes a motion for you to hold out your hands, which you both do. He quickly rubber-stamps the backs of your right hands with the logo of the club in bright red ink. A flash of panic runs through your mind at the sight of the colour but you quickly dismiss it.

The doortroll opens the door for you while gesturing for the next group of trolls to come forward. As soon as he does the reverberating bass that you had felt through the pavement hits you in full. You didn’t realise how good the soundproofing in this place was. Mhelli starts to push you into the wall of sound and soon the beat, the flashing lights and the dry ice engulf you.

It was only then that you realise just how monumentally stupid this idea was.

You don’t even know how to dance.

 

* * *

 

Mhelli soon steers you to a booth at the side of the club. It amazes you how packed the place already is considering how early in the morning it is. You see flashes of colour from all over the hemospectrum, burgundy scarves to violet-tinted fins. Everyone seems to be dressed to the nines and you feel self-conscious until you remember the dress that you’re wearing. Mhelli really did a good job with It. You hope she can continue using her talent in the future, maybe as a Seamstriator or a Dressailant. She never could decide on what she wanted to be, always flitting between one hobby and the next.

The noise pounding in your auricular sponge clots is starting to give you a headache. You rub your temple with a thumb but quickly lower your hand before your friend can catch you. Don’t want her to think you’re not having fun.

The pair of you are getting a few strange glances from other trolls. You’re just sitting in the rather cramped booth without any snacks or drinks and not even talking. This is understandably suspicious so you stand up and take Mhelli’s hand, leading her out to the dancefloor. Screw the fact that you can’t dance, it’s too crowded for anyone to care. Plus it doesn’t seem like anyone else really can either.

After what seems like hours of jumping up and down, yelling the wrong lyrics at each other and generalised flailing about you decide to take a break for a bit and start to head back to the booth. The one you had sat in before was now occupied by a seadweller and a rustblood, who were too busy doing other things to notice you. Or anything else at the club for that matter.

You and Mhelli deign to take the booth three to the left of your original instead. She plomffs down on the padded seats and leans her elbows on the table, chin in her hands. Her infectious grin, wide as ever, spreads to your face as well when you see how happy she is. You sit down opposite with a bit less vigour, gently smoothing out your skirt as you go.

“That...was brilliant...” she puffs, out of breath but just as enthusiastic as ever. At least the natural din of the place is a bit quieter over here so you can actually hear her speak, although your auriculars are still ringing from being so near the source of the music before.

“I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“What about you, Azi?”

“Well…”

You didn’t want to say that the music was too loud, it was too stuffy, there were too many trolls or any of your other multiple complaints. You focus instead on that one moment when you were on the dance floor when you just felt _alive_.

“I think I should let you drag me out more often,” you say, grinning even more when you see her face light up like twelfth perigee’s eve decorations. It was the right answer. Although your face is starting to hurt with all this smiling.

“Drinks are on me, what do you want?” she asks, standing up again.

“No, no, please. You brought us here El, the least I can do is get the drinks.” You start to rise out of your seat but she quickly pushes you back down.

“Nope! This is your Wriggling day celebration, I’m getting the drinks!”

“Fine, but at least let me pay.” You reach into your sylladex with a hastily mumbled description of your purse then hand a few caegars to your friend. Money is one thing you don’t worry about incessantly, and you know Mhelli doesn’t have a lot to spare.

Her mouth quirks to the side in the ghost of a frown but quickly rearranges itself back into the usual smile.

“I’m choosing your drink then!” and off she vanished into the crowd.

You breathe deep and let out a large sigh after she’s gone. You can feel the muscles in your think-pan tensing up and making your headache worse. Closing your eyes you massage your temples, wishing it away and wishing you were tucked down in your recuperacoon, catching up on some much-needed sleep. 

You are too busy night-dreaming about your coon to notice the other troll slide into Mhelli’s seat until he clears his throat loud enough for you to hear it. You sit up straight, startled, then look him up and down warily.

He’s reasonably tall, with long, antler-like horns adding extra height. The ring-markings on them along with the budding colour in his eyes put him at about eight sweeps but his face was still quite soft, making him seem younger than he was. He was one of the few visitors to the club that hadn’t bothered to dress up but when you see the dark red rays emanating off a circle on his shirt you understand why. He smiles gently at you, almost like he had forgotten how to.

“Vahagn Nequox, it’s nice to meet you,” he says, voice low and soothing with a hint of brogue.

You can’t do much other than sit there with your mouth hanging open slightly. He looks a little flustered by this and does his best to continue.

“I’ve been watching you since you came in with your friend.” 

Well, that got a reaction from you. You close your mouth sharply, an incredulous look on your face.

“And that’s not at all a creepy thing to say to a random girl you just came up to in a club,” you say, the words tumbling out your mouth like a waterfall.

“Uh...wait, no...shit. I didn’t mean it like that.” He stumbles over the words, seemingly as shocked by his previous statement as you were. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Look, if you’re looking to hook up with a random troll today I think you should try elsewhere. I’m not interested.”

“Nonono. No. I just...ugh.” He groaned and rubbed his ocular sockets with the palms of his hands. “I can’t think with all this racket. May we please go somewhere a bit quieter?”

You just plaster a ‘Do you think I’m that stupid, desperate or crazy enough to fall for that one?’ look on your face and just stare at him. His eyes were actually very pretty with the hint of rust around the- _NO! You do not need to be thinking like that right now. Yes, he’s only a lowblood and shouldn’t be too big a risk but NO!_

“Please?” He’s practically begging now. “I swear it will only be for five minutes, we’ll be back before your friend does with your drink.”

You mentally sigh, then actually do so, shrugging and rolling your eyes at the same time. You may as well, who know’s how long Mhelli will take. And it’s always good to meet new people, _especially if they’re kinda cu-NO!_

You let him lead you out a back door and into a well shaded alley, the sun now well and truly up, the air beginning to heat. As you were passing through the crowds inside you had had a view of the bar, Mhelli chatting to a random on the stool next to hers, a large tentaclebeast lusus mixing and serving drinks behind the bar. By the looks of things she was happy socialising and wouldn’t even think about you for several minutes. Which gave you plenty of time to deal with this...Vargan, was it? character.

The older troll, who was holding one of your hands, albeit tentatively, led you a few meters away from the door so that if anyone else came out they wouldn’t see you immediately. Normally you would have been alarmed at coming out in an empty, although reasonably clean, alley with a complete stranger but something about the way he acted so gently, so timidly made you trust him enough not to be worried.

_Plus, you do know how to defend yourself if it comes down to that._

The rustblood now slouches against one brick wall and you stand slightly off from the center of the walkway. He had let go of your hand and was looking awkwardly at his shoes, biting his lip and occasionally glancing up. You just stare, willing him to say something. When that doesn’t happen you decide to speak up.

“So why did you want me out here?”

And he just looks at you. But it isn’t any old look, it was intense, it was nearly reverential, but tinged with caution and doubt. He takes a step forward and stands up to his full height, almost two heads taller than you. For a second you think he’s going to kiss you. Instead he gently takes the left flap of your jacket in one hand and runs a claw over your symbol, focusing all his attention on the gentle curves and circles of it then snapping his gaze back to you.

“I wanted to talk about this.”

“It’s just my symbol, what’s so interesting about it?” you ask, swaying away from him a bit as if to take a step but not quite bringing yourself to do so.

“Do you really not know what it means? Of course not, you wouldn’t wear it around the fish-bloods otherwise,” he mutters, answering his own question. He had glanced away for a second and had practically spat out ‘fish-bloods’.

_Oh great. This guy’s an anti-spectrumist, isn’t he?_

“Wh-what are you talking about?” you stammer. You still can’t bring yourself to step away, to step out of that stare. You raise a hand and place it on his wrist, unsure as whether it’s to make him let go or hold you closer.

He looks down at your symbol again, this time with a questioning expression on his features. Then it morphs into an accepting resolve as he glances up again and lets go of your jacket.

“I’m talking about _this_!”

With the last word there’s a flash of something gold and a sharp pain across the palm of your outstretched hand.

You stare as blood, bright, candy red blood pools in your left hand then spills over the side. You glance up at the other troll, who is staring at the mutant colour in shock. Your eyes widen in fear and he looks up to meet your stare.

_It’s too late now. You know what you have to do._

In a flash your scythes are in your hands and you begin to step into the twirl that will simultaneously slice open his throat and stomach. As soon as he sees the blades he stumbles backwards, his claws scrabbling for something on a chain around his neck.

He had luckily managed to step out of your range so as you spin around your scythes swish past him, only just missing the targeted areas. He had stopped scrabbling and was holding something out at you rather than trying to defend. As your whirl brings you face to face with him your gaze rests on the pendant held in his claws.

On a silver chain dangles a symbol cast of dull grey iron.

Your symbol.

[](http://imgur.com/SQzt0yA)


	3. Chapter 2 - A helping hand

For an eternity you stare at the small grey symbol, the smooth curves, the fine chain linking the two halves. As it twists gently it reflects part of the morning sky, flashing a burning red for a millisecond before returning to its natural grey. You are mesmerised by it.

“It’s the symbol of the burning chains, the sign of the Signless.”

It takes you a few moments to remember that the pendant had an owner, and he was trying to speak to you. You raise your head to look at him and discover that he had been staring at you again. He’s breathing pretty heavily, obviously still disconcerted by your sudden attack, but his _definitely reverential gaze_ is focused entirely on you.

“Thousands of sweeps ago there was a troll, a mutantblood, who told stories of a society of peace and happiness, not war and bloodshed. He encouraged people to change their ways and to be more accepting of others, saying the hemospectrum was a farce and that life didn’t need to be the way it was. The way it still is.” He lowers the pendant back down and tucks it under his shirt again, not once taking his eyes off you.

You close your gaping mouth, then open it again, trying to form words but not quite being able to. Eventually you manage to force your tongue and absurdly dry throat to work again.

“Wha...What happened?” _Stupid! Why did you ask that? You need to get away from this nut-job, not keep talking to him._

“When the highbloods found him they strung him up in a main square with burning irons. He was murdered and his followers culled en masse. Just because he didn’t want a war!” He spat the last sentence, face screwing up and eyes finally averting from your own.

“What does that have to do with me?” _Stupid, stupid STUPID!_

“Don’t you see?!”

He grabs your wrist tightly. The shock of the movement caused your claws to unclench and you drop your left scythe, fresh blood pumping out of your wound. You try to tug your hand back and get away from this madtroll but the muscles coating his slim frame are as strong as they look.

“Can’t you see?” he continues, ignoring your struggles. “The revolution may have failed the first time and the Signless Sufferer’s blood was spilt for it but He still lives on! His blood, his legacy lives on in you!”

“Let go! Let go, you’re hurting me!”

At this he drops your arm like it is scalding hot metal, but before you can run back inside he places himself in front of the door, blocking your exit. He raises his hands in an effort to placate you.

“Please, I never meant you any harm,” he says calmly, eyes still wide with excitement. “I only want to protect you, keep you safe. There are more of us, we can help you. Help hide your secret.”

_He may have blocked the door but this alley still has other exits._

When you glance to your left all you see are several mass waste containment receptacles, overflowing with the rubbish of the dayclub and surrounding buildings. To your right is a door to the other building, but there’s a clearly visible padlock on the handle. Further on is the escape you were looking for.

_So you’re going to run out into the burning morning light? Great plan, seriously brilliant. I really don’t know how you come up with these things. Ow, my eyes are starting to hurt just looking out there._

You whip your gaze back to the rustblood, who’s looking at you with a pleading, wary expression, as if he knows you’re about to bolt. Which you do.

You dart to your right, running as fast as you can and desperately hoping you don’t trip over anything. Hurried footsteps behind you indicate that the other troll is hot on your heels. You zip past the locked door and the end of the alleyway looms up in front of you and you burst out and-

_ow ow ow hot can’t see hot blinded ow ow burning ow it hurts it burns aaah make it stop make it stop it burns it ow make it argh hot hot sun hot too bright burning light hot ow see can’t no stop ow bright too no light ow sun hot sun ouch no hot hot burns too bright burning heat no make it stop_  
 _Make it stop_  
 _MAKE IT STOP_

\- you duck into a shaded alcove near the front of the club. You just sprinted through the daylight with your eyes all but closed just to get here. It only lasted less than ten seconds but it had been the most painful experience of your life. Thanking whatever forces out there that had made it only early morning you lean back against the cool brick of the building and close your eyes. The veins in your eyelids had been seared into your retinas so for a second the turquoise afterimage made you think your blood was really the colour you pretended it to be.

The thought of your blood makes you look down at your hand. The frantic running was causing the liquid flow from the wound slightly too fast for it to be clotting. You take off your jacket, glad that it had protected you from the worst of the sun, and wrap it tightly around your claws. You end up looking like you are wearing a black, woollen boxing glove but at this point you don’t care about how you look.

Pausing for a few more seconds to listen for footsteps you decide that your pursuer had given up the rather short chase. With the knowledge that you were pretty much safe you continue to edge around the building, not giving your body any more time to compile its list of complaints.

Sticking to the shadows that the heavy shade-cloths out the front of the dayclub provide you make it back to the front of club without any more incidents. The queue hasn’t really decreased in size since you last saw it but there didn’t seem to be any new trolls arriving so you guess that the doortroll has stopped letting people in. Which might make things difficult.

You walk up to him quickly, holding up your right hand back-first so he can clearly see the stamp still on it. After a quick inspection he just nods and lifts the dividing rope to let you in. This earns several groans and vicious comments from the trolls near the front of the line but the doortroll placates them with a growl and a mean look while you head back into the club.

Once again the noise hits you like a physical barrier, made all the worse this time thanks to the sunburn migraine you are now sporting but trying desperately to ignore. It’s rather hard to do so though as the flashing lights are making the world list to the side alarmingly.

You catch yourself before you fall over, shaking a sense of balance into your head. Determinedly you set off for the bar; it hadn’t even been ten minutes since you had first stepped outside. The place is lit up in neon blue, making all the other colours seem weird, but thankfully hiding the red welts that were starting to form on your wrist where you had been grabbed.

You quickly spot Mhelli, who was giving a demure little wave to some guy that was leaving, and head over to her.

“Mhelli, it’s time to go.” You are standing straight in front of her now, giving her no option but to look straight at you.

“Aww…but we only just got here and you haven’t had your drink yet and-“ you raise a hand to cut her off. She squints a bit and looked closer at your face. Even if she couldn’t see the inflamed skin where you were burnt, even if she didn’t notice your bandaged hand, the look you were giving was enough for her to get that something had happened.

She opens her mouth and makes a small noise like ‘ah…’ before you grab her wrist and whirl around for the exit.

_That was stupid._

Even once you stop turning the world refuses to, your movements had been too fast. Blood rushes to your head and you feel sick and nearly collapse. It was all just too much. _Not enough sleep, not enough good food, flashing lights, loud noises and now a sunbathing session? You really are out to kill yourself in the dumbest way possible, aren’t you?_

Mhelli grabs your arm before you can hit the floor, hoisting you back up and holding you steady until you get your bearings. You lean on her while she makes her way to the exit. For a second you think you spot a familiar pair of antler-horns in the crowd, but then you also thought you saw a pink trunkbeast on a one-wheeled device so who knows. Everything was hazy, and not just because of the dry ice. Hundreds of blunt daggers were stabbing into your thinkpan, aiming for the soft bits at the temples and behind your eyes. It was just. Too. Much.

_I’m sorry Elli, I think you’re going to have to carry me._

And then you give in to the shadows edging around your vision.

 

* * *

 

_You know you are dreaming. You know this because the boy is there. He’s got his back to you but you can tell it’s him. Even without seeing his mussed-up hair and oh-so-familiar horns you recognise him. You will always know it’s him._

_He’s sitting on the stony ground, hunched over a crab-like computer and typing away furiously. You circle around him a bit until you can see his face. Eyebrows drawn in and the bags under his eyes deeper than ever he looks so much older than the six sweeps you know he is._

_It’s been perigees since you saw him last. Your dreams of him were often brief and only really occured when you were feeling particularly stressed out._ I think what happened this morning would qualify for that, don’t you? __

_The boy suddenly rocks back on his haunches, scrubbing his eyes furiously and letting out an exasperated sigh. It is only when he lowers his hands that he notices you standing there. He lets out a quick yelp, jumping back in his seated position and begins to reach for his weapons before recognising you. Once he did he leans forward and rubs his eyes again._

_“Fuck...I must have fallen asleep at my computer or been knocked out by a fucking imp or something.” He groans quietly, claws over his face. His voice was more hoarse than usual, as if he had been shouting more than he was used to._

_“Well, this is a pretty different dream than what I normally have,” you reply, looking around at the landscape of rock and red. “The dreams with you are normally in places less...scenic.”_

_You think about the dark nothingness that is the most common place for your dreams of the boy. Yes, there were other places where you’d seen him; but the rooms were always dark and bland. This land was too strange for it to be a normal dream._

_He looked up at you questioningly. Then realisation passed over his face before it decided to settle on anger._

_“So I’m hallucinating then. Well that’s a fucking relief. Let me celebrate that fact by pinching myself to make sure that I actually am finally going shithive maggots in this hellhole of a game.”_

_He does so, wincing slightly and rubbing the sore spot afterwards. You walk over and sit down beside him, leaving enough space between you to make sure you don’t touch. That always ends the dream and you didn’t feel like leaving just yet._

_“So what’s this game you’re talking about?” you ask._

_“Not a fucking clue. You’re the projection of my subconscious, why don’t you fucking well tell me?”_

_This time it was your turn to cover your face with your hands._

_“Ugh...can we not get into this again?”_

_“What?”_

_“The whole ‘my dream, your dream’ debate. We never end up coming to any conclusion and we just end up wasting time.”_

_The boy huffs._

_“Fine.”_

_The pair of you sit in silence for a minute, you staring off into the distance, him tracing invisible lines on the ground with a claw. Eventually he speaks, not looking up from the ground._

_“So what are we going to talk about then?”_

_“...That is a very good question.”_

_You both turn to look at each other, faces splitting into wide grins at the near-identical expression of vague hopelessness and confuzzlement on the others’ features. You sit and laugh together for a while, for no other reason than it feels right. Eventually the laughter peters out and you look over at him, at how pale and haggard he looks._

_“When was the last time you slept?” you ask, worried. If your subconscious was looking this worn it was no wonder you collapsed._

_He looks down and away, not wanting to meet your gaze._

_“Three, four days ago,” he replies quietly. “This game hasn’t given me many chances to get some fucking shut-eye. That, coupled with the imbecilic assholes I’m forced to play with, means sleep is out of the question. I’m meant to be their fucking leader but these fuckwits couldn’t follow their way out of a sodden paper carrying receptacle.”_

_You reach a hand out, going to place it reassuringly on the boy’s shoulder, but remember to stop yourself just in time. You settle on a small smile instead._

_“I’m sure it will get better. Things are never as bad as they seem.”_

_“But what if they are?” His gaze was locked back on you now and you could see the rage, the fear, in that stare. “What if things are as fucked up as they seem? What if they’re even worse than that?”_

_He looked about to cry, but no tears welled up in his eyes, no flush rose on his cheeks. He was holding himself back. You mentally flailed around, searching for something to answer him with._ You’re not his moirail, this isn’t your job. Just get out of here, you’ve slept enough as it is. __

_“I...I-” you stutter. Then you hear something and breathe a quick sigh of relief before the realisation of what you just heard hits you._

_“Hey KK! You there?” Another voice, owner unseen, calling out. There was never anyone else in your dreams._

_The boy stood up abruptly. You duck out of the way of a flailing hand then turn your head in the direction of the other voice._

_“Where the fuck else would I be, you four-horned asshole?” the boy calls back, anger settling back onto his features like a well-worn mask._

_“Well I dunno, thomewhere that actually maketh thenthe to be hiding?” the other voice replies non-commitedly, lisping heavily. “Hey, were you talking to thomeone elthe?”_

_The boy glances down you, panicked._

_“No! Fuck you!” he replies hastily._

_You just sit there, eyes wide, gaze flicking between the boy and the rocky outcrop where the other voice was coming from. The voice was drawing closer and you can hear footsteps on the hard ground._

_The boy looks down at you, biting his lip._

_“Sorry we couldn’t talk for longer,” he says under his breath. Then he leans down and taps you on the shoulder with one claw just as you see a shadow coming around one of the rocks._

 

* * *

 

You wake.

You’re in another scuttlebuggy, click-clack-clicking along the scuttleways, headed to a currently unknown destination. You can feel the slight rocking motion, hear the whirr of the motorised legs, smell the multitude of odors that cling to the interior of the vehicle. But you keep your eyes shut.

They feel dry and itchy and burnt. As if someone had decided to roast them over a fire and added too much salt and pepper. Eventually you become accustomed enough to this feeling that you start to take other bodily complaints into consideration.

Your skin feels flaky and raw like it’s been scoured, your left wrist is sending sharp needles of pain shooting up your arm at each jolt of the buggy and for some reason your right knee is also extremely sore. But all of that is nothing compared to the headache you are now nursing.

You open one of your eyes a crack and immediately shut it again, wincing at the daggers stabbing into your thinkpan from the light. You groan and slowly slouch forward in your seat, curling up and cradling your head in your claws, feeling every muscle twinge at the movement. There’s a rustling noise coming from your left and you flinch away from the touch of someone resting a hand on your shoulder. It was a move too soon however, as the blessed darkness behind your eyes was suddenly filled with flashy dots and any sense of balance you have goes out the viewing aperture.

Groaning again you lean as far forward as the restraining straps allow, wrapping your arms across your belly. You would throw up but your stomach is empty from not eating properly. _Why do you always do this to yourself?_

You try to think up a witty reply for the voice in your head but the throbbing, stabbing pain prevented you from coming up with anything more eloquent than _Shut the fuck up_. Eventually your stomach and head settle down enough for you to squint and turn your head to where the touch had come from. Unfortunately your vision was too blurry for you to actually make out anything more than a dark figure sitting next to you, one arm extended and hand hovering in your general direction.

The figure obviously notices the movement and leans closer to get a better look, but is careful not to try and touch you again.

“Are you okay?” a familiar voice asks. _Mhelli…_

You give your friend a wry smile, which is more than slightly pointless as the majority of your face was covered by your knees.

“Fucking peachy,” you rasp, only now realising how dry and sore your chitinous windhole is.

The figure of your friend draws back from you, sitting up again. You can tell she’s worried and slightly nervous, you don’t swear unless things are seriously wrong or you are seriously angry. This situation falls into the former category.

You close your eyes again, blinking hard several times as you slowly lean back in the padded seat. When you open them the lights don’t seem so abhorrently bright and things aren’t as annoyingly blurry. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a hand holding out a glass filled with brightly coloured liquid. Suspiciously bright, with a little umbrella impaling a slice of tangello that bobs at the top. Mhelli sees the look you give her and stumbles over her words as she tries to explain.

“I-it’s only juice! I knew that you wouldn’t want to drink anything more and I thought that it looked good and I thought that Paradise Slice was a cool name and-”

You cut her off by lowering your chin to your chest. Her words hurt, quite literally. Her voice is a bit too loud and your migraine did not like it one bit.

“Did you steal that from the club?” you mumble at your lap.

“No! I already paid for the drink and I was going to bring it to you but then-”

“ _Did_ you steal that from the club?” you repeat, with a bit more force.

“...only the glass…”

You smile again, this time genuinely. Leave it to Mhelli to remember the drinks when you’re carrying your friend out of a club. You lift your left arm, fingers grasping for the glass. Mhelli pushes it into your hand gently, hovering close in case you can’t hold it up.

You let out a small gasp at the sheer coldness of the glass on your burning skin. It was icy. It was cold enough that it looped around the scale into burning again. But it was a good sort of burn this time. Slowly raising the glass to your lips, muscles and skin screaming at the exertion, you take a gulp. Then another, then another. You get halfway through the juice before the pan-freeze hits.

You lean forward again, one palm, one icy glass pressed against your temples, screaming silently through your clenched teeth. _If this isn’t hell I don’t know what is._

Mhelli continues to hover, wishing to help, to comfort, but not willing to touch you in fear of the pain you would feel. After a few more seconds of agony you once again sit up, sigh and then drink the rest of the juice, this time savoring the taste.

You give your friend a small smile of reassurance and thanks, then lean back and try to ignore your injuries for the rest of the trip. By the time you arrive you feel almost normal. Once the buggy stopps Mhelli climbs out quickly, but not as enthusiastically as before, and scurries around to your side of the vehicle to help you out. Her touch still hurts your burnt skin but you just grit your teeth and let her take the weight your traitorous legs refuse to carry.

You silently thank whatever deities that cared to listen for your best friend. _Seriously, what would you do without her?_

She’s brought you back to her hive on the outskirts of town. It’s a further ride than your own but you figure she had her reasons and you don’t have the energy to argue. Once you navigate down the well-shaded garden path and inside to the cool dimness of her hive you disentangle yourself from her grip and stumble over to her husktop, one thing on your mind.

“Azi, what are you doing? You need burn-cream then sleep. I don’t mean to sound like your lusus but now is not the time for computers.” Mhelli was now standing over you, hands on her hips and worried look on her face. You ignore her and press the ON switch.

“He saw my blood,” you reply, not looking up from the screen.

“What.” Her voice is dull, expressionless.

“I said he saw my blood. So I need to do this before anything else.” She chews on her bottom lip for a few seconds then gives you a small nod and walks away, whether to take care of her lusus or distract herself from the problem you didn’t care.

You log on to Trollian and open a new chat window to the only other troll you trust with your secret. And even then it’s a trust without a choice after the… _incident_...from a few sweeps ago.

\-- chimaericGuide [CG] began trolling guilefulAmaurosis [GA] \--

CG: ...GA?  
CG: ...Crow, are you there?

\-- guilefulAmaurosis [GA] is an idle chump! --

You slam back in the chair, raking your claws through your hair in frustration. Then you freeze, letting out a hissing noise through your teeth as the pain of your movements hits you. Closing your eyes you take a few deep breaths and try to banish it back into the corners of your consciousness so you can think again.

Or you would be thinking if your mind wasn’t in panicked overdrive.

_Where is he where is he where is he WHERE IS HE!?_

Then you here a quite ‘blip!’ from the computer and you release a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. Someone is contacting you, and you seriously doubt it’s any other of the names on your chumproll.

GA: My apologies for the wait, my dear.  
GA: My claws were occupied with some other business.  
GA: However you have my undivided attention now.  
CG: ...I need some help with a problem.  
GA: Would this problem have anything to do with a certain dayclub you visited recently?

He knows, of course he knows. He always knew everything you did, thanks to his ‘little birdies’ who seem to tell him anything and everything.

CG: ...Yes, and a troll I met there.  
CG: ...He saw my blood.  
GA: I see.  
GA: Would you like me to... deal with him?  
CG: ...There’s not much else we can really do, is there?  
GA: Well, you could always let him run amok and fly free, my dear, but I do not recommend that course of action.  
GA: A little birdie told me that the High Council have stepped up security and drone patrols since Her disappearance.  
GA: If he gets caught for anything I am certain he’d trade your life for his in a heartbeat.  
CG: ...Please stop,  
CG: ...and please stop him.  
CG: ...I can’t let him say anything a69ut me or my blood to anyone.  
GA: Consider it done, my dear.  
CG: ...Thank you.  
CG: ...What do I owe you for this?  
GA: Oh, nothing for you, my sweet. Never any cost for you.  
GA: If it makes you feel better you may consider it a Wriggling Day gift, from me to you.  
GA: We can’t be letting anything untoward happening to you, after all.  
CG: ...Once again, thank you.  
CG: ...I don’t know what I’d do without you.  
GA: Most likely perish at the hands of the drones or in some other unspeakable manner.  
GA: But do not worry my dear. I will take you under my wing and keep you safe.  
GA: Oh, and next time you decide to go out for a jog I would advise you to wear some sunscreen.  
GA: Farewell, I will contact you when the job is done.

\-- guilefulAmaurosis [GA] has ceased trolling chimaericGuide [CG] \--

And he’s gone again. You breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that Crow will take care of it for you. Just as he takes care of so much in your life. You don’t completely trust him because you barely know anything about him, not even his name, but you know that he keeps you safe and has done for sweeps.

You push the chair back and attempt to stand but your legs feel too weak and you have to catch yourself on the desk before you collapse. Mhelli comes in at the sound of the chair moving, walking swiftly over to you and leading you away from the desk. You let your mind go numb, knowing you are safe with her, and let yourself slip into auto-pilot as your friend puts burn-cream on the worst of it and guides you into a recuperacoon filled with cool, relaxing slime.

That night you dream of moons of gold, enemies of black, seas of red and of a shouty young troll trying to hide his fear behind angry words.

 

* * *

 

It is late evening and you, MHELLI PAPILI, are not getting any sleep today.

It’s not the first time this has ever happened but it always takes a heavy toll. You don’t quite have your best friend’s ability to run on virtually no rest so you’re already starting to feel dead on your feet. You’ll keep yourself busy, of course. There’s cleaning and sewing to be done. You play around with a few new dress designs then wish you had nicer fabrics available. You wash the dishes, make some food, do the gardening…

The gardening. Normally it would be a task you save for the evening or early morning, but you’ve been slightly preoccupied as of late. The enormous flowers that cover your large garden are ones you tend to more out of necessity than pleasure, although the flowers themselves are beautiful and you do love them. Many of them are as big as trees and they shade your whole plot, which can be another bonus because it means going outside during the day isn’t too bad for short periods of time.

The only thing you hate about the flowers is the amount of _effort_ you have to put in to keep them healthy enough to give your lusus the food she needs. Who knew that butterflies were so hard to take care of?

You head into your ablution chamber, turning the flow-knobs on the ablution trap on. Getting dirty and disgusting while gardening is a given, even without having to wear the old and tattered sun-coat you keep in the grubshed. It would still take a few minutes for the trap to fill so you head out of the chamber, looking for a book or something to read while bathing.

You wind up in your respiteblock, having exhausted all other possible places for your copy of ‘Dawnlight’ to be hiding, but stop as soon as you see Azalea curled up in your ‘coon. Your face softens and your body relaxes as you let out a slow breath. She twitches in her sleep, fighting off invisible enemies, and the sopor slime laps slightly at the edges of the recuperacoon. Closing the distance between the door and the ‘coon with only a few quiet steps you rest one hand on the lip of the shell, the other raised above your friend, not quite patting her on the head.

Your claws hover there for several seconds as you think about your relationship with her. _Pale or flushed? Flushed or pale? Definitely something red. But her? What about her?_

You heave a sigh, slowly bringing you hand back to rest on the lip with the other. Azalea has never shown any romantic inclination towards you so friends it is. Not that you’re not happy being friends, no no! Friends are great, something more would just be better. So you take the hugs where you can, help her when you must and always wish for that something more.

Azalea twitches again, more violently this time. She’s squirming about in the coon, making it rock slightly on its unsteady base. Whatever dreams she’s having are obviously too bad for your somewhat stale slime to take care of. You bite your lip gently then reach your hand out again, this time making contact with her slime-speckled hair. You gently scratch at her scalp, thumb rubbing at the inside curve of an adorably small horn. Within a few seconds she begins to calm, the thrashing easing until she is still in the bright green slime. She lets off a small contented murmur and you smile sadly, heart fluttering.

Eventually the thought of an overflowing ablution trap forces you to stop stroking the head of your _friend! Only a friend!_ so you grab your book and head out of the block and back to the ablution chamber. You manage to get to it in time and adjust the flow-knobs to OFF.

You dump your dirty clothes on the floor and climb into the trap, some water splooshing over the side from being slightly more full than you’re used to. After scrubbing yourself clean you lie back in the warm water with your book, reading the dialogue out loud under your breath. Character voices and all.

_“You’re impossibly fast and strong. Your skin is pale and...glows. You never eat or drink and sunlight doesn’t burn you. I know what you are.”_

_“Say it. Say it out loud.”_

_“Rainbow drinker.”_

And so on...

You lie there reading for another half-hour before deciding that the water is cold enough to warrant getting out. After towelling yourself off and getting into some clean clothes you step out into the livingblock, still drying off one of your long curling horns, hair out of the normal ponytail and making the back of your shirt damp. You meander over to your husktop, stifling a yawn, for lack of anything better to do and notice a little flashing alert coming from Trollian.

Clicking it open curiously you discover that Azalea forgot to log out and there were messages waiting for her from her mystery contact. _It’s already open, I may as well look at it._

\-- guilefulAmaurosis [GA] began trolling chimaericGuide [CG]\--

GA: Apologies for the late contact my dear but I have never been much of a night owl. I have information I feel you would like to hear.

\-- chimaericGuide [CG] is an idle chump! --

You glance over at the time. It’s mid-afternoon, but these messages were sent more than two hours ago. Was he on the other side of the planet or just able to go without sleep or something?

You shake your head, no use wondering about these things, and go back to reading the log.

GA: The troll you asked me to dispose of is one Vahagn Nequox, rustblood, rabble-rouser and general trouble maker.  
GA: His hive was demolished by drones several sweeps ago to make room for more complex arrangements so he and his ‘Stagdad’ were forced to live in the nearby woods and it is only a recent development that he chose to move back into the city full-time.  
GA: And he was culled by a seadweller in that club not long after you left.  
GA: I’ll spare you the gory details but, needless to say, our problem has been taken care of for us.  
GA: I bid you a good day’s sleep.  
GA: Farewell, my dear.  
GA: If anything is required do not hesitate to contact me.

\-- guilefulAmaurosis [GA] has ceased trolling chimaericGuide [CG] \--

You don’t know what to feel at this news. Glad that you don’t have to worry about him telling on Azalea? Or sad that someone else has been culled for the sake of the hemospectrum?

 _Bluh!_ You shake your head. Hanging around Azi too long made you start to disbelieve in everything society stood for. You’d never liked the idea of killing anyway, but you accepted it until your friend told you about how it could be, how it should be. Now thoughts that could get you culled appear in your head too often for comfort.

But you won’t tell. You won’t betray your friend ever. You may not be the smartest troll ever, or one who is good at sticking to one occupation, but you will always stick to Azalea’s side. And you will do anything to protect her, romantic relationship or no.

You quickly log Azalea’s account out and get on your own. You’ve never talked to Crow on your own before but there were some questions you needed to ask.

\-- animatedConservationist [AC] began trolling guilefulAmaurosis [GA] \--

AC: hello!  
GA: And who might you be my dear?  
AC: i’m azis friend!  
AC: and i need to talk to you aᗺBout something you told her!  
GA: Azi?  
AC: oops sorry!  
AC: i mean azalea!  
GA: Ah, Miss Vantas. That must make you Miss Mhelli Papili, correct?  
AC: YES!!!  
AC: ᗺBut how do you know aᗺBout me?!  
GA: Oh, a little birdie told me.  
GA: And of course I will do my research on anyone who feels it is necessary to associate themselves with dear Miss Vantas.  
GA: Keeping her safe is very important, would you not agree?  
AC: YES!!!!!  
AC: shes my ᗺBestest friend and i would NEVER want anything ᗺBad to happen to her and keeping her safe and everything is important and-  
AC: sorry!  
AC: i tend to ramᗺBle at times!  
AC: its kinda a ᗺBad haᗺBit ᗺBut i cant seem to stop!  
GA: It’s perfectly acceptable my dear, we all have our vices.  
GA: Now what was it you wished to talk to me about?  
AC: oh yes!!!  
AC: can you tell me more aᗺBout vahagn nequox?!  
AC: azi hasnt tld me anything aᗺBout what happened this morning ᗺBut i know it was something ᗺBad and i just want to help and i think that if i know more it would ᗺBe good!  
GA: Hmm...  
GA: I think that when Miss Vantas awakens she will be able to tell you everything you need to know.  
GA: But I will say that the seadweller’s name was Voture Roingi, and he was only on Alternia to inspect the disappearance of the Heiress.  
GA: A lackey of the HCS and nothing more.  
GA: But I guess you may as well have this:

\-- guilefulAmaurosis [GA] sent animatedConservationist [AC] the file “VN0409-A9E-B4O.png” --

GA: It’s a copy of his official report.  
GA: I hope you find it useful.  
AC: oh THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!!!!!!!  
AC: you’re not as ᗺBad as i thought you were!  
GA: Oh no, my dear. I’m much worse.  
GA: Now I must take wing and get on with more important business.

\-- guilefulAmaurosis [GA] ceased trolling animatedConservationist [AC] \--

And with that he vanishes offline.

You are really not sure what to think of him at that moment. You open up the file he sent you nonetheless, it’s not much more than a policeradicator report on the boy. Eight and a half sweeps old and already culled. Even if you didn’t care about that sort of thing it was a disheartening idea.

You give another sigh and check the time again, only seventeen minutes later than when you last checked. You still have several hours to waste before Azalea will wake up, especially with what she went through earlier, so you decide to waste it by generally mucking about on the internet.

It’s amazing how time flies when you’re bored out of your thinkpan.

*

When Azalea finally wakes up everything seems slightly hazy from your lack of sleep. You greet her with a ‘Good evening, feeling any better?’ and make her breakfast. She seems like she’s going to pass out as much as you do but the look on her face shows that she will not be going back to ‘coon anytime soon.

It’s hard to remember stuff this evening, things just aren’t sticking in your head.

But you will always remember the defeated way your best friend slumps on the desk when she reads the news from Crow.

And you will never forget the sickening sound of her knuckles breaking when she punches the wall, or the slight smear of red it leaves.

 

[](http://imgur.com/pzfQC4E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the amazing [Punda](http://punbunpanda.tumblr.com/post/73937938973/vahagn-nequox-oc-fan-troll-for-blood-sister-by) with some work from me to make it look more like a police report thingy.


	4. Chapter 2 ½ - A series of dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really a plot relevant chapter, sorry. These dreams were requested by multiple readers on the MSPA Forums (along with some other entertaining shenanigans that will not be included here) so I obliged.
> 
> This is a big time-passing chapter and the dreams shown aren't the only ones that Azalea has with Karkat, they were just the more important ones.
> 
> These dreams are actually going up on here before the forums, which is exciting in some way :)

_You are now AZALEA VANTAS and you have fallen asleep at your desk. Again. You really need to stop pulling those all-dayers when you’re busy writing. However you don’t seem to be in any horrific situations so this can’t be one of your normal nightmares. In fact, the only horrific thing about this dream is how green everything is._

_You look around. There is a bright green light emanating from everywhere and nowhere at once. The brightness makes you instinctively want to cover your eyes and hide in the dark but the limey luminescence doesn’t hurt. Otherwise the place is dull, boring and empty with nothing but a small black speck in the far distance. You start to walk towards the speck, curiosity getting the better of you._

_A journey that should have taken hours is over in just a few steps, distance and proportion distorted by the dream. The speck resolves itself into a boy, curled up on himself, arms hugging his knees. His shoulders are shaking like he’s been crying but when he looks up at the sound of you approaching he’s wiped his eyes so no trace of his tears,_ of his hue _, is visible. When he speaks his voice is emotionless, dulled._

_“Oh, it’s just you.” He makes a motion to stand and face you properly but you see him shaking so you wave a hand and sit down beside him instead. The pair of you sit in silence for several seconds, staring out at the bright green nothingness that has replaced the more usual black._

_“Why is it that all my dreams with you are in weird places lately?” you ask._

_He just shrugs, making a non-committal grunt, so you continue._

_“I mean, it’s been two perigees since our last dream, but why the change in location?”_

_At this he lets out a short bark or humorless laughter._

_“Two perigees? Two FUCKING perigees? Is that all it fucking well takes for my life to go to hell?!” His body tenses as he speaks, face contorting into a snarl as the anger you are more used to seeing returns tenfold. “We suffered through WEEKS of fighting imps and chess-people and if I ever see another blugelicking frog again I will SCREAM so loud that Billious Slick’s fucking sponge clots liquify and shower the god-damned UNIVERSE with amphibious SLIME! We won the FUCKING PRIZE and then because I was STUPID and ARROGANT enough to think that RUSHING US THROUGH would make us win better we LOST the prize and ended up with a HOMICIDAL SPACE-DOG chasing us into a ring of FUCKING ASTEROIDS where we sat around with our hands up our nooks for WHO KNOWS HOW LONG?! Well now. I fucking. Do.”_

_By this point you have scooted a few meters away from the boy and now you sit there, eyeing him warily. You have never seen him this enraged before and it is frankly scary to think that some aspect of you could get that mad. Admittedly, you have no idea about half of what he just said, but that doesn’t change his anger._

_“Err…” you mumble slightly, eyes still wide in shock._ Oh yes, very eloquent. Care to add a few ‘um’s in there too? _He doesn’t seem to notice you and continues his rant into the air._

_“I’ve had to put up with horrorterror spawn, Eridan’s constant flirting, a psychopathic juggalo and now two fucking god-tier aliens, one of which is an insufferable douche and the other’s a snarky know-it-all. My best friend just died trying to launch this piece of shit meteor into the Void and now we’re all stuck here for THREE FUCKING YEARS with nothing but a bunch of ghosts for company.” His voice begins to crack at the mention of his friend, anger seeping out and being replaced with sorrow. The boy buries his face back into the gap between his knees and chest, voice coming out muffled and empty again._

_“They’re gone. They’re all fucking well dead and it’s my fault. I was meant to be their leader but all I did was lead them to the fucking culling pits.”_

_You shuffle back over to him, pity filling your heart. You want to hug him tightly and tell him that it will be okay but then you think back to what happened last time and change your mind. You settle with sitting as close to him as you can without touching and staring out into the green nothing in silence._

_In the distance you can see something shimmering, moving closer. It looks like a wall of rainbow light, swallowing up the green as it encroaches. It’s curved, like a section of a sphere._

_“Um…” you say quietly, realising for about the twelfth time that you still don’t know his name. He looks up at your voice, after wiping away his tears again, glaring as if challenging you to try and say something calming without getting your head bitten off. When he sees you staring at the moving wall instead of at him he moves his gaze into the distance as well._

_He stands when he spots the thing, emotional outburst temporarily forgotten, and you quickly follow. The wall is getting close now, advancing faster and faster as it closes in. You try to move, to step back and run away from the glimmering light, but your whole body is frozen in place._

_Then the light is upon you, pushing and shoving you with all the force of the unstoppable. It feels like every molecule in your body is being flattened and your senses are assaulted with green and white light and you feel like you are falling through the nothing and-_

With a clatter and a thump you fall out of your chair. Glancing out the window you notice the sky starting to darken as the sun sets. You shake your head and stand, replacing the fallen chair at your desk. A fleeting thought passes through your thinkpan before you dismiss it as nonsense.

_I hope the boy is okay._

 

* * *

 

_This time when you dream the boy finds you. You are standing in the thankfully normal black nothingness clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to drain away some of the stress and tension that is still rampant in your body after tonight’s near-strife. Crabmum had decided that she would make a special dinner this morning because of the day but nearly been culled at the markets for eating food before paying. You ended up nearly having to fight the stall owner to get him to back down and dinner ended up burnt and disgusting anyway. The night had culminated in you slamming the door to your block and resolving to have an early coontime._

_“What the fuck got you so worked up?”_

_You exhale slowly and forcibly straighten your claws before turning around and giving him a small, lopsided smile._

_“Just my lusus being an idiot and people being even worse,” you reply. You see his body tense slightly at the mention of your lusus before he relaxes again._

_“Tell me about it,” he says, rolling his eyes. He starts to walk past you and into the nothingness at a leisurely pace and you follow by his side. “Mine once decided to get the behemoth leavings two whole fucking weeks before twelfth perigee because they were easier to find. By the time we were meant to celebrate the whole fucking mess had putrified.”_

_You just nod, knowing it sounded like something Crabmum would do. You can tell that this topic is making the boy a bit uncomfortable, however, so you don’t say anything else for a bit. Semi-awkward silence seems to be a common thing between you two. You’re walking for what seems like hours, decades, eons, but you know can only be a few minutes before you decide that a conversation would be nice._

_“I know this is pretty much just like saying it to myself but...Happy Wriggling Day.”_

_He just stops walking at stares at you, a disbelieving look on his features. You stop a few steps in front and turn to him._

_“What,” he says, more of a statement than a question._

_“Well, I remember us talking on our second wriggling day. You were bragging about being ‘so old’ and I said it was my wriggling day too. You didn’t believe we could share the same hatch-date so you got mad and tried to punch me.” You give a wry smile at the memory. “You hit like a girl, by the way.”_

_He splutters at that last bit, going on a rant centering around how young and stupid past him was and finishing with a resounding ‘Fuck him.’ You just stand there as he yells and gestures wildly at the nothingness, vaguely impressed with his colourful vocabulary. After he finishes he looks up and seems to notice you again and his anger mostly dissipates._

_“Happy Wriggling Day to you too, I guess. I lost track of time on this fucking meteor because it’s so screwed up that only that pretentious dickweed Strider know’s how long we’ve been going. Nice to see SOME part of me actually notices the unimportant stuff like wriggling days, though.” He sighs and continues walking._

_Unfortunately he walks a bit too close to you and his arm brushes against yours. You go to yell out a warning but it’s too late._

You wake covered in slime and for once feeling rested after one of those dreams. It’s still the middle of the day but you climb out of your coon and get clean nonetheless. You always have things to do so if you’re awake you may as well get them done.

 

* * *

 

_This dream starts like pretty much any other one._

_You are walking through the streets of the city, other trolls nothing but grey and fuzzy ghosts at the edge of your vision, flitting from building to building over the sidewalks. They don’t notice you walking in the middle of the scuttleway, don’t acknowledge your existence. You keep walking._

_As you walk further the edges of the buildings and the streets lose their fuzzy quality, becoming harder, sharper. The tall towers shift into spikes as you run, run away from the unimaginable horrors that are chasing you, away from your fears, your regrets, your guilt, your shame._

_Everything is becoming spikey now, shards of darkness splitting the scuttleways and pavements. You stumble and trip, lacerating your hands on the razor-sharp asphalt when you try to catch yourself. Bright red is dripping, no,_ pouring _, from your palms and claws and wrists. You stand and start to run again, but this time the grey ghosts, the other trolls notice you._

_They grow claws and fangs as they snarl at you, chase you, baying for the candy-red blood that saturates your veins. Your bloodpusher pumps faster as if it’s trying to get a full-life’s worth of beats done before the pack of howling beasts descend on you._

_You dart to your left, ducking into an alleyway between two of the spires that cage you into the street. You can see more spikes at the end but you keep running, unable to stop, body stuck in its motions as red pours from your arms and the wolves and the darkness close in on you. You run closer and closer and the ebony spikes gleam an oily gleam until you are so close that you feel them stabbing your arms, your legs, your belly. The pain is searing flashes of lighting stabbing into where your soul should be. But you don’t have one. You’ve never had one._

_Then the darkness and the howling surrounds you and the red seeping from you runs out and it hurts, it hurts so much and then-  
Silence._

_You are still standing in darkness, but there are no troll-like wolves, no spikes of ebony and oil, no scrapes or cuts or bruises. No blood. Just black. You take a step to reassure yourself that your body is back under your control before looking around for the other person you know will be here._

_You smile when you see him standing a few meters away, his back to you and looking as tense as you did a few seconds ago. He turns and when he sees you his face rearranges into the not-grimace that you know is his way of smiling back._

_“Bad dreams?” you ask casually, turning to face him properly. The boy groans._

_“Ugh, no, I enjoy having a fuckton of burning chains wrapped around me, don’t you?” he asks, sarcasm dripping off his every word. You giggle slightly and he just snarls at you before relaxing._

_As the pair of you begin what has become your usual routine of walking into the nothingness while talking he heaves a sigh, slouching even more and digging his claws into the pockets of his baggy grey jeans. You look at him questioningly but when he doesn’t glance up and see your face you speak._

_“What’s wrong? And before you even open your seed flap don’t say it’s just the dream, we’ve both had worse.” He snaps his mouth shut and scowls at the second section, obviously about to pass off his exhausted look as nothing. He goes back to staring at the nothingness a meter or so in front of his feet, stomping on the ground with a little more force than was strictly necessary as he walks._

_“Everything. Every fucking thing is wrong, always has been and always. Fucking. Will be.”_

_He stops talking there, not wanting to go into any detail. You just look at him for a few more seconds, then focus your gaze back into the supposed distance, getting lost in your thoughts. The silence gets to him before it does you and he begins to speak in the worried and exhausted tone that you are familiar with._

_“It’s been two human years, fifty-two weeks exactly since we started this goddamned journey on this hellhole of a rock. We’re supposed to arrive in the new session tomorrow but who the fuck knows what we’re going to find there. Lalonde is too fucking ‘inebriated’ to give me a straight answer and the one other person who might have a nooksucking clue is busy cavorting with clowns. There’s still a homicidal barkbeast chasing us and now we have to deal with this ‘Lord English’ douchewad too. I’m not even the leader anymore but I’m the only one with enough fucking sense to actually be worrying about all this shit and I can’t let this go wrong. I can’t be responsible for everyone else dying too.”_

_“I know you never listen to me when I say this, even I don’t listen to me so I don’t blame you, but can’t you just trust that things will turn out alright?” you ask quietly._

_“No. No I fucking can’t. Because every time I decide to just sit back and hope for the fucking best everything goes shithive maggots and it’s all MY fault for not realising it sooner! I just- AAARG!” At this kicks an imaginary rock on the smooth, flat ground, supposedly sending it flying off into the nothingness. If there was a wall here he would have punched it._

_You wince at that last thought, surreptitiously rubbing your left hand. He attempts to vent his anger on the nothing for several seconds longer before giving up and stopping, back to you and shoulders hunched up to his ears._

_“Look, what’s your name?” he suddenly asks out of nowhere._

_“Huh?”_ Oh well done. Is it really that hard a question to answer? Or do you just wish to change your name into unintelligible grunts? __

_“I asked what your fucking name was.” He whirls back around to face you. “I figure that a figment of my imagination as advanced as you will no doubt have given itself a fucking name already. Or shall I just call you ‘Fuckwhiffing Shittard’ instead?”_

_“I’m…” You pause, confusion on your face and clouding your mind._ What IS my name? _You know you have one. You know you’ve thought of it before in these dreams, but as soon as you try to say it the word is blurred and hidden from your mind. “I’m ah...azi...azae...argh! What’s your name?”_

_The scowl on his face melted into confusion, then panic, as he tried and failed to remember his name. Small cracks were appearing in the nothingess, bright, white light shining through and splitting the darkness._

_“Ki...Kah…” The boy was struggling with his name as well. “Kar…”_

_The cracks are widening, lengthening, great shards of light spilling through. You quickly step forward to avoid a crevasse that was forming beneath you. As you move the tip of a claw trails in the blinding light and_ it burns IT BURNS _. You quickly snatch your hand back, the pain clearing the fog from your mind._

_“Azalea! My name’s Azalea Vantas!” you cry out to the boy. He is worried, panicked, trying to get closer to you but unwilling to move off his stepping stone of darkness. Once you say your name the cracks in the floor, the ceiling, the walls you didn’t know were there join up, encasing the pair of you in a sphere of black and white with the black rapidly vanishing. The world is shaking, rumbling, making it hard to think or hear or speak._

_You step closer to the boy, careful not to touch but eager to get to the spot of darkness he occupied. He is still fumbling with his name._

_“Kat...Kah-rat...Karkat! Karkat Va-”_

_The world trembles again and you realise too late that you had stepped too close as you fall against him. For a glorious split-second you feel him holding you in his arms then the world goes white._

You awake to find yourself thrashing about in your recuperacoon while Crabmum tries to fuss over you, making the soothing clicking and gurgling sounds she used to when you had nightmares sweeps ago. You try to calm yourself down, to stop your bloodpusher from racing, and take a few deep breaths. Then you remember feeling his touch and you stop breathing altogether.

Crabmum strokes her claws through your hair, slicking off some of the slime back into the coon. Eventually you regain enough control over yourself to climb out, wash yourself and get dressed.

_You know that name._

The same thought repeats itself over and over in your head, pulsing to the flow of your blood. _You know that name, you know that name._

You walk over to your husktop on your desk, bringing up a news report from over a sweep ago. A quick search on Troogle brought up a picture as well. The face of your imaginary friend stared at you angrily from your screen, looking about five sweeps old. On his black shirt was embroidered a symbol you saw every day, but in grey. The dream-boy you had known for as long as you can remember was called Karkat Vantas and he was one of the eleven kids that vanished along with the Condesce and the heiress a sweep and a half ago.

That was the last time you ever saw the boy in your dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also:  
> I want to say a huge thankyou to everyone who has kudosed, bookmarked, subscribed or even vaguely read through my story so far. You are all wonderful people :D


	5. Chapter 3 - A time to leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it always takes so long for me to update on here, but blame life and long chapters. The bad news is I'm probably going to take even longer now due to the start of University, which cuts into a fair chunk of my time. But I have no intentions of abandoning this adventure so have faith.
> 
> There are supposed to be arts coming but Mew is busy with life so they probably won't crop up for a while.

Your name is Azalea Vantas and you are getting ready to leave Alternia for good.

Well, you’ve still got three nights left before the ship leaves but it always helps to be prepared for any eventuality. You’ve gone through your hive and thrown out anything you don’t need or want anymore, you’ve organised a special transport cage for Crabmum so she doesn’t do anything stupid and you’ve packed any clothes or items that you will not be using over the next few nights into a mass storage sylladex card that you purchased specially for the trip.

You look around your hive for the thirteenth time after finishing packing, wondering what to do now. _That’s the problem with being prepared, the boredom that usually follows._

Plonking yourself down on the chair tucked into your near-empty desk you sigh before opening up Trollian, hoping that one of your writing cohort might be online. A blue circle was lit up. You remember the guy as being a bit of a self-obsessed idiot, but his writing was good.

\-- chimaericGuide [CG] began trolling authorialGenus [AG] \--

CG: ...Hey AG.  
CG: ...How are you going?  
AG: "The incredibly handsome and noble blueblood looks up from his obviously extremely important work and regards the intrusive girl with scorn."  
AG: "He informs her he is going very well, thank you."  
CG: ...What are you working on?  
AG: "AG informs CG he is writing the newest chapter of his grandest adventure story."  
AG: "He knows it shall be regaled through the ages and worshipped by future generations as a holy text."  
AG: "This is completely obvious to everyone."  
CG: ...I do think your work is pretty good, the scenery and descriptions of the aliens are wonderful.  
CG: ...Some of the characters are a bit  
CG: ...Nevermind.  
AG: "AG thanks the beautiful tealblood graciously for her kind words. "  
AG: "He enquires as to the nature of her interruption."  
CG: ...Oh, no, no. It doesn't matter, really.  
AG: "AG's thanks are a rare occurrence and should be appreciated appropriately."  
AG: "Obviously."  
CG: ...Yeah.  
CG: ...I don't know why I talked to you in the first place.  
CG: ...Thanks for occupying ten minutes of my time.  
AG: "CG is entirely welcome."

\-- chimaericGuide [CG] ceased trolling authorialGenus [AG] \--

You sigh and lean back in your chair, closing the lid of your husktop with a flick of a wrist. You have only wasted twelve minutes of the three nights you have remaining and can’t think of anything else to do. You’re not in the mood to write, you go outside even less than you used to after the... _incident_...two sweeps ago, Mhelli’s present is wrapped and stored in your sylladex. There’s nothing you can really do.

Heaving another sigh you lift the lid of your husktop open again and bring up Grubtube. _Aimless video watching it is_. You’re about to click on one of the ‘recommended for you’ links when-

“Azziiii-”

The door slams open, bouncing off the backstop and rebounding into the entering oliveblood’s face. She stumbles backwards, one hand clutching at her cartilaginous nub, the other flailing in the direction of the door. You leap to your feet and quickly grab your friend’s wrist before she can take another step backwards and fall down the stairs. You pull her back up to a standing position, claws on her shoulders to keep her steady, and watch as a trickle of green seeps below her hand and runs down over her lip.

“You. Are such. A klutz,” you say slowly, looking in her eyes with a lopsided smile on your face. She lets out a noise that would probably be a giggle if her nose wasn’t bloody. “Come on, I’ll get you an icepack.”

You both head back into your apartment, Mhelli to the ablution chamber, you to the food preparation block. Crabmum is in there trying to burn some no-longer-food beyond all recognition; and after a quick argument mostly consisting of raised eyebrows, refusals to eat and a lot of screeching you abscond with a tea towel filled with ice-blocks. You hear the water running and enter the ablution chamber to see your friend dabbing away the last of the blood with a wet splodge of tissues. She looks up as she sees your reflection entering the mirror-room and you pass her the makeshift icepack.

“Heh. Sorry abou dat,” she says nervously, taking the ice and putting it to her face, brushing the dirtied tissues into the small waste receptacle next to the counter.

“Don’t apologise, it’s not _my_ cartilaginous nub that got flattened by a door.” 

“Heheh, yeah.” She gives you a small grin.

You roll your eyes at her, turning away and walking back into the main living block at the same time. She follows and flops down on the small couch that you haven’t packed yet, claws still holding the tea towel to her face.You drag your desk chair over, straddling it and leaning on the back, chin cupped in an open palm.

“So what exactly was the reason for your sudden entrance?” you ask after a couple of seconds. Not that you’re complaining about the distraction, you just want to know if there was a purpose behind nearly breaking her sniffnode on a door.

“I jus wanded to visit my friend an see how she was going an stuff,” she replies, voice as cheerful as ever, if a bit muffled and obtuse thanks to the ice. You raise an eyebrow.

“You’re procrastinating, aren’t you?” 

She giggles nervously. “Maaaaybe…”

You shake your head in disdain, rolling your eyes again. When you next look at Mhelli she is staring at you intently, a mixture of worry and confusion plastered across her face, icepack down by her side.

“What?” you ask incredulously, a slightly more bemused expression on your features.

“Do that again,” she says, eyes intently fixed on your own.

“You mean roll my eyes?” She nods, hard and fast, eyes not once leaving you. You do so, more than slightly worried about the strange way that your normally lighthearted friend is behaving.

In a flash Mhelli is crouched in front of your chair, your jaw gripped firmly in her claws, icepack forgotten. She twists your head this way and that, then stands and does the same thing. You feel your neck being stretched at this strange but gentle treatment, your eyes focusing on Mhelli’s own green and orange ones. Her face is lined with concern but you can see the panic in her wide eyes.

Suddenly she grasps your wrist and drags you back into the ablution block, flicking on the slightly brighter lights as she enters. She tilts your head up slightly further than is comfortable, using her reasonable height as an advantage. You can’t take your eyes off hers as you try and figure out what she is looking at. Hers have a slightly glassy look as if she’s not looking into your eyes to you but at them.

“Ssshhhhit,” she hisses under her breath as she releases your head and takes a step back from you, stare still not wandering.

“What? Mhelli, what?” _She never swears, what’s wrong? What’s happening?_

She does nothing other than shake her head, eyes still wide. She blinks hard a couple of times, ripping her gaze away from yours, then gestures towards the mirror, indicating that you look for yourself.

You step up to the reflective surface above the sink looking all over your face, trying to see what Mhelli had seen. When at first you don’t spot anything you turn back to your friend, confused. She just gawks at you again, seemingly scared, and you turn back to the mirror. As you do you catch a brief flash of red. Bright red. You lean in closer and focus on your eyes, the things that Mhelli had been staring at.

There, around the edges of the once black centers, was a slight lightening of the ebony to a deep maroon. You blink in shock and as your eyes open your irises catch the light, flashing a bright, blood red.

 

* * *

 

\-- chimaericGuide [CG] began trolling guilefulAmaurosis [GA] \--

CG: ...Crow?  
CG: ...I have a problem. A *serious* problem and less than three nights to fix it.  
GA: Good morning to you too, my dear. What seems to be the issue?  
GA: Is the blood test kit not working?  
CG: ...No, it’s fine as far as I can tell.  
CG: ...It’s my eyes.  
GA: Aaah... I see. Or rather, I don’t.  
CG: ...Sorry, what?  
GA: Just a little joke, my dear, don’t get your feathers all ruffled because of it.  
GA: Do not worry about this new issue, I have had a contingency plan in place for quite some time now.  
GA: I am actually slightly surprised you have not needed these for as long as you have. You are quite the late bloomer, my dear.  
CG: ...  
CG: ...You’ve lost me.  
GA: I’m talking about corrective ocular lenses, Miss Vantas, although you might be slightly more used to the upper-class word for them as most lowbloods cannot afford them.  
GA: Contacts.  
CG: ...Are those the pieces of plasti-skin that some trolls use instead of glasses?  
GA: The very same. Although the ones I aquired for you have some...modifications.  
GA: Tealblood in name, tealblood in nature, if you catch my meaning.  
CG: ...So if I wear them they’ll make my eyes blue?  
GA: Indeed my dear.  
GA: They will keep you safe from anything but a close inspection, easily enough to get you past customs and off the planet.  
CG: ...That’s all I need then.  
GA: Good to know. I’ll have them sent to you as soon as possible.  
CG: ...Thank you. I seem to say this a lot but I owe you.  
GA: Do not worry, my dear, helping you is reward enough.  
GA: Farewell.

\-- guilefulAmaurosis [GA] has ceased trolling chimaericGuide [CG] \--

*

A package arrives on your doorstep early the next night. It is small and black and has a printed message attached in some sort of florid font.

Dear Miss Vantas

I trust you receive my gift in good health and are prepared for the voyage that is to come. Inside the package is a pair of coloured corrective ocular lenses as well as instructions on how to properly insert them, take them out and care for them. I would advise you to practice wearing them over the next night or two so there are no mishaps when it is time for your departure.  
I wish you luck in your endeavour, give my best to Miss Papili.

Yours faithfully  
Crow

You head back and settle on the couch in the living block, box held tenderly in your claws. Gently lifting the lid you pull out a folded sheet of paper with the instructions and a small plastic carrying case with split bowls and two lids. You carefully unscrew one of the lids and look inside to see an intricate teal iris looking up at you, suspended in a salty-smelling liquid.

Placing the carrying case on the table, careful not to spill anything, you pick up the instructions and read through them. When placing the contacts in you need to hold you lower ocular lid open with one hand, the upper lid with the other and then place the lens in with the foreclaw of the first hand? Needless to say you are confused and slightly grossed out by the proposition of putting a piece of plastic in your eye.

_What if it gets stuck in there? What if it slips around the the back of my eyeball? Won’t I just be poking myself in the eye? Will it hurt? What if-SHUT UP! What if you didn’t wear them and they saw your demon eyes, huh? What will you do then? And don’t say curl up and die because you know that isn’t an option, they will keep you alive then they will TORTURE you and anyone you’ve ever talked to and-_

You mentally stop yourself there. As much as you like to keep your fate to your daymares, all too often the thought of being discovered creeps into your thoughts. You gnaw at your lip for a few seconds then head over to your husktop. _There’s got to be some videos of trolls putting contacts in somewhere._

*

After an hour of video-watching you think you are ready. You take the contents of the black box into the ablution chamber, placing them on the counter next to the sink. You shudder slightly at the sight of your eyes, the hated colour already so much more pronounced after only one night.

Steeling yourself, you prepare to do one of the grossest things you think you’ll ever have to face.

*

When Mhelli arrives an hour later it is to find you slouching forward on the couch, holding a cool, wet facecloth over your aching and bloodshot eyes. Crabmum gives a _screeee_ at the pair of you, waving her claws in the air, then pats you on the head in a meant-to-be-loving-but-more-likely-to-leave-a-lump-type manner and heads back off into the hive somewhere. You don’t move.

“Umm...Azi? Should I come back later?” she asks, worry and confusion in her voice.

You lower the damp cloth and look up at your friend, left eye watering pastel tears.

“I. HATE. Contacts,” you say slowly, the annoyance and irritation clear in your tone. She just giggles slightly, the stress caused by your condition flowing out of her.

“C’mon, they can’t be that hard.”

She takes your hand and you trail after her into the ablution chamber. She quickly reads through the instructions then deftly plucks out on lens, balancing it on a clawtip. When she comes close you try to back away but she drags you closer with the grip she still has on your wrist.

“Aziii…” she whines “Please, you can trust me.” Her face is soft and pleading. You sigh and stop struggling, Mhelli releasing her grip on you as you do.

“Okay, tilt you head up and look at my claw.” She has one hand on your face now, her thumb gently pulling your lower ocular lid down, her index claw pointing up and to the side so you are looking to the corner of your eye. Her hand is warm and soft and gentle and you feel yourself calming at her touch. _She’s not your moirail! What are you thinking? Why are you letting her do this? All it would take is a flick of her wrist for her to stab into your ocular socket with a claw and kill you. How can you trust anyone like that, especially one that knows abou-_

And then she rests the pad of her other hand on your forehead and your thoughts calm back to _Elli is my friend, she would never hurt me_. She holds your upper lid open with another claw and you can see something getting unnervingly close your your eyeball in the corner of your vision. You feel something cold and slightly slimy slip onto your sclera and Mhelli lets go of your face.

Blinking several times, the lens slides into its correct position and the vision in your right eye seems to have a slight ring around the edges now. You look at yourself in the mirror and do a double take. Blinking again your left eye flashes in the light, looking none the less demonic for it still being bloodshot from earlier. Your right eye, however, was rimmed with blue. The iris was the shade of teal you always wished it would become. Your opposing eyes paired with the tear streaks and mussed up hair from earlier attempts make you seem like two halves of different trolls stuck together.

_The troll you always pretend to be and the one who you really are inside. It’s all very Jekyll and Hiydde, isn’t it?_

You are jerked out of your reverie as Mhelli places a hand on your shoulder. She grins.

“That wasn’t too hard, was it? Let’s get the other one in.”

 

* * *

 

You’ve packed and captchalogged everything, leaving your hive an empty husk of what it once seemed to be. You’ve lived here for not quite six sweeps and now you’re about to leave for good. One final scan of the virtually empty blocks leads to to find a twisted paperclip, half of a graphite writing device and a dead squeakbeast. That last one slightly grosses you out so you decide to leave the cleaning of your once-hive to the drones.

You stand in the doorway to the place, the claws of one hand resting lightly on the doorknob, the others settled on the doorframe. You breathe a quick sigh then close the door, the sound of the lock clicking quietly into place. Shifting the satchel with some basic belongings (spare shirt, notepad and pen, husktop, etc.) further up your shoulder to make it more comfortable you turn and set off down the many stairs that would lead you on your way.

Dropping off the keycard to your ex-hive to the empty desk on the ground floor you head outside and take a deep breath of the early evening air. The horizon still has a faint pink tinge to it and the heat of the day can still be felt on the breeze. There’s a clicking sound approaching from the distance and a communal scuttlebuggy rounds the corner, coming to a halt only a short distance from where you were standing. The wing aperture facing you swings open revealing your best friend inside, waving at you to get in with her usual grin.

“Come on Az! We’ve got to get to the port before the shuttle goes without us!” You give her a wry smile and clamber into the beetle-shaped transport, Mhelli shuffling over to give you more room.

“Calm your allocated food-growing land, Elli. There’s still plenty of time to get to the port and go through customs.”

A worried look passes over her face at the mention of the identity checks that you will have to go through before boarding the shuttle that will start you on the journey to Serendias, the planet you’re moving to. She opens her seed-flap and you quickly clamp one hand over it before she can say anything.

“Did you get everything sorted in time, Elli? I did. I got everything ready and packed,” you say, staring intensely into her green-rimmed eyes, the tone in your voice sending the underlying message of _shut up shut up they’re probably listening in_ to her. In case she didn’t understand you tap one claw on the other hand next to your auricular holes then point at the dashboard of the buggy. Her eyes widen and she nods slightly so you remove your hand from her face, silently praying that she doesn’t try to say anything incriminating.

You’ve been a lot more cautious with what you say in public, and even private, places over the last sweep or so. With the Empirical Security Division stepping up their game by a long way in the perigees since the Empress vanished there have been a lot more incidents of supposed rebels and insurgents being discovered through hidden audio or video recording devices. It was more or less common knowledge now that the buggies were bugged, but Mhelli had never been the quickest to catch on to things.

“Yeah, I managed to get everything packed up and ready and stuff,” she eventually said, after a few more seconds pause. She looked wary and slightly apologetic so you give her a small smile for reassurance and her grin quickly returns. The inane chatter that you’re used to starts up as Mhelli starts to talk about anything and everything that crosses her mind.

Leaning back into the seat you stare out of the viewing aperture on the side of the cabin. The city starts to dwindle into suburbs, which then fade into wilderness interspersed with the occasional hive. The slight rocking motion of the scuttlebuggy smooths out as it picks up speed on it’s way to the district’s shuttleport, placed to cater for several cities.

You idly trace a claw over the slight edge of fake skin that covers your right index finger, trapping a small amount of teal blood underneath the tip of the phony digit. With your contacts in and false blood on hand (quite literally) you are indeed ready for this journey.

With the speed gained by the buggy once it reached the less populated area it is not long before you reach the impromptu city that sprang up around the shuttleport over the sweeps. It was less of a living area and more of a trade centre, with the vast majority of trolls being lowblood workers or blueblood supervisors, gaining experience for jobs they would have once off-planet. You see several building drones about the place and instinctively duck further into the buggy at the sight of the empirical presence.

The buggy clacks to a halt a distance from the customs office outside the port and you climb out, slinging your satchel back over your shoulders as Mhelli follows you still rambling on about something you lost track of long ago.

“-but then he just stopped and I never saw him again which was good because he was _really_ annoying. Hey, what’s in the bag?” You tune in just in time to hear this last question.

“Huh? Oh, just some things I thought I might need on the shuttle. Notebook and husktop and stuff.”

“Why bother carrying them though?” she ask, tilting her head to the side. “Can’t you just get it out of your sylladex when you want to?”

“No, they confiscate your sylladex before you board the shuttle. I told you this, remember? Using them interferes with the autopilot systems or something.”

She pales slightly then starts to hum quietly but frantically as you turn and start to head towards the blocky, grey building. You catch a whiff of ozone as she catches up to you, claws in her pockets as she shoves some things into them. You chuckle and she grins sheepishly, shrugging as she does so.

The pair of you step into the customs building together and a _whoosh_ of over-cooled air envelops you. Velveted ropes stretch between bollards, creating a maze through which a queue of trolls snake. You weave your way through the designated paths and join the end of the line, Mhelli just in front, other trolls coming up behind.

You glance anxiously around, the abundance of other trolls unnerving you, a feeling not helped by the fact that nearly all of them are older and a fair bit taller than you. You’re only a few perigees past your eighth wriggling day meaning you only just qualify for planetary egress, whereas Mhelli would have been literally booted off Alternia with no choice of destination tomorrow if the pair of you hadn’t been leaving today. Most trolls choose to leave the home planet early, provided they had enough caegars for shuttle tickets, so they wouldn’t just be shoved off to the outer reaches of the empire to fill barely occupied planets.

_krssht! Ding-ding-doong! The shuttle to Serendias is now boarding. Repeat: The shuttle to Serendias is now boarding. Departure will be in one hour. Ding-ding-doong!_

The descending tones reverberate around the building, the robotic announcement a few decibels louder than really needed. The queue starts to shuffle forwards as several more booths open up, shutters sliding up to reveal the gleaming silver desktops and biometric devices bolted to them.

The slow shuffle continues as trolls peel off from the queue and head to the nearest available customs desk. The movement is slow enough to feel like you’re going nowhere, but not quite fast enough for you to just stop. You sigh in annoyance and Mhelli turns to face you, now walking by your side.

“What do you think the new planet’s going to be like? I know that the website said Serendias is big and beautiful and there’s tonnes of stuff to do and the grass is purple, _purple_ , but do you really think it’s going to be that good? I mean, what if the air smells funny or something?” she yammers at you, the slight tremor in her voice betraying her nervousness.

“I think it’s going to be great, Elli,” you say before she can continue her ramblings. “There’s plenty of things to do and a good job market. And if it’s not good then why are so many trolls moving there?”

“Mhm, good point. But I don’t know, what if something happens and we can’t live in the same district or one of us gets a job that will take us somewhere weird or neither of us find a job and we end up in enforced labour or-”

“Elli!” you interrupt her by quickly slipping in front of her in the line and looking her in the eyes. Shuffling backwards slightly to keep up with the queue you continue. “You need to stop worrying about all that stuff, we’ll cross those gap-spanners when we get to them.”

She clamps her lower lip between her pointed teeth and nods. You smile at her reassuringly before glancing behind you to make sure you don’t crash into anything. There were only three trolls in before you now, and the queue was still relentlessly moving forwards.

“Anyway, it’s too late to back out now. I’ll see you on the other side.” With that you whirl around and do your best at striding confidently to the nearest empty desk.

You don’t do quite as well as you hope because a combination of your slightly too short legs and the satchel bouncing around on your shoulder made you look slightly ridiculous. But you ignore the snickers of the still-queued trolls and step up to the booth.

A bored looking olive-blood is slouched at the desk, his chin cupped in an open palm, claws drumming slightly on his prominent cheekbone. Not even bothering to look at you he drawls out the same words he must say a thousand times each night.

“Name.”

“Azalea Vantas.” Your own voice is prim and cheerful, not belaying the blood-pusher-fluttering anxiety you really feel.

“I.D. and ticket.” You reach into your satchel and grab the appropriate slips of plastic, placing them in his outstretched hand. Without moving his gaze from the indeterminable spot in the distance he places your I.D. card in a scanner and swipes your ticket through another piece of equipment in one fluid motion. He places your ticket on the gleaming metal of the desk and your hand hovers uncertainly by your side as you ponder whether or not you’re meant to pick it back up.

“Remove all head or face coverings and face the image capturing device. Do _not_ smile,” he continues in his monotone. You quickly wipe the small smile off your face and stare blankly at the device. There is a bright flash of light and you blink in surprise. Then again to clear away the dark spots in your vision.

The scanner emits a high-pitched _beep!_ and the troll picks the I.D. card out of it and slaps it on top of your ticket. You take this as your cue to pick them both up and put the slips of plastic back in your satchel.

“Place your sylladex and any loose captchalogue cards in the tray provided. They will be returned to you upon exiting the shuttle. Any captchalogue cards discovered on your person past this point will be confiscated and incinerated. Did you pack your bag yourself?” He finally glances down at you with this last question. You freeze for a moment when he looks at your teal-covered eyes, claws holding your sylladex above the tray he had offered.

“Y-yep!” you stutter, remembering to move again and continuing your previous motions. Before you can put your hand back down he grabs you by the wrist and stabs you in the finger with a pin. You yelp in surprise and snatch your hand away, holding it to your chest. He inserts the pin into another device with the hand that was previously cradling his head, his other limb placing the tray on a small conveyor belt that took it away. _Presumably to be placed in storage on the shuttle, no doubt they’ll rummage through your stuff first, though._

The machine emits a short bi-bip! and flashes green. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief at the positive result. _The fake finger [U]worked![/U] You’re safe now._ You place your claw in your mouth, sucking on it as if it was sore, doing your best to ignore the salty-sweet taste of blood that isn’t your own.

“Give me your bag,” the troll sighs, thumping his elbow onto the desk and resting his chin on his hand again. The other extends out towards you, clearly gesturing at you you hand over your satchel.

“What, why?” you ask, bewilderment plastered on your features. The olive-blood sighs again.

“So I can check there are no banned items in it, sheesh, how stupid can you get?” He rolls his eyes and gestures again. You reluctantly hand over your bag, not really wanting this spotty teen to go rummaging through your belongings. He unzips it and looks inside, picking out one or two smaller items for closer inspection, and generally makes a mess of your carefully packed bag.

“While I’m doing this just place your chin on that-” He gestures to yet another device that seemed to look like a complicated image capturing device with a chin-holder and forehead-rest attached to the front. “-and stare at the red dot. Don’t blink.”

You rise up on your tippy-toes and barely manage to get your chin on the bottom rest, but your forehead was tilted away from the top strip of curved plastic. Seeing you struggle with the height of the object the customs-troll sighs deeply and abandons his rummaging in order to twist some knobs to lower the device.

“So what does this do?” you ask, attempting to make some sort of conversation.

“It’s called a retinal scan unit,” he drawls. “It takes a picture of the inside of your eyes which is then used as an extra identification method so the empire will know you are who you say you are in future times. It is a highly specialised device created by dedicated scienterrorists in order to reduce the movement of rebels and aberrants and keep the empire safe.”

The speech, however dull the delivery or rehearsed the information sounded, frightens you. If the machine took a picture of your ganderbulbs it would see your contact lenses and then they would find out and-

You take a deep breath and try to swallow your worries, an action that leaves a lump in your protein chute. _You don’t have a choice, you’ve got to do this. If you refuse they’ll raise the alarm for being suspicious. Although if you do put your head there then they’ll get you anyway. Hmm, what to do. What. To. Do._

“Um, do I have to? I have really sensitive bulbs and I don’t want to hurt them or anything,” you say nervously. The troll just arches an eyebrow at you condescendingly.

“Get over it.”

You gulp and move your head closer to the device, getting far enough for your semi-unruly hair to brush against the top rest. Then you baulk.

Then you run.

Your movements cause the customs troll to slam his hand on a big red button near his head. Sirens wail and large metal partitions slide down from the ceiling, blocking off the exits. There is a clicking and thumping sound as several security drones march out of previously hidden doors, searching for the troll causing the disturbance. Searching for you.

_Well done, you complete and utter grubmuncher. You really fucked up big time now, haven’t you? You know all those daymares you keep having about being found and tortured? Well, they’re about to come true._

You go into panic mode, instincts kicking in and making you hunch over, baring your blunt and useless fangs and extending your claws as far as they will go. You reach for your sickles before remembering they had been taken away along with your sylladex. Glancing around for some form of exit you find none, but begin to back away from the encroaching drones nonetheless.

“ _[B]AZI![/B]_ ” You hear a voice yelling your name on your right. You whip your head around to get a look at the person shouting and you see Mhelli waving her hands in the air and running towards you. A troll steps out of the queue to stop her and she punches him in the snout, sending a gush of navy spraying into the air. Mhelli dodges around him and sprints to you, stopping and turning to face the approaching drones as she reaches your side.

“Mhelli! Why did you do that? You could have gone through and been fine!” you yell at her, eyes dancing from one drone to the next. They approach slowly, as if expecting you to pull out a weapon.

“Are you kidding? I’m not leaving you here! Plus, they would have dragged me in for associating with you anyway,” she replies, swiping her claws at another troll that tried to get too close.

The drones, deciding that you weren’t going to try anything dangerous after all, dive at the pair of you. You jump backwards, grabbing Mhelli’s wrist and dragging her back with you. You stumble into the velveted ropes, then glance back and have an idea.

“Run.” You breathe the command to your friend then turn and do so, ducking low and sprinting beneath the ropes of this empty section of maze. Only a few meters to your left there are dozens of stunned looking trolls staring at your escapades; some reaching out to stop you, and a few others cheering you on too.

Glancing under your arm as you duck under another rope you see Mhelli behind you, leaping fleetfooted over, using her long legs to her advantage. The drones that were trying to chase you are unfortunate, however, being too tall to duck under and too big-footed to comfortably step over. The chitinous spines that grow from their body armour don’t help either, catching on the ropes and causing them to trip and become tangled.

A laugh burbles out of your lips as you watch the rather comical sight of the drones falling over and for a few seconds you let yourself believe you might make it out of this alive. You stop in the middle of the rope maze and wait for your friend to catch up, poised on the balls of your feet, ready to take off sprinting again any second. Mhelli soon joins you and you look around again, assessing the situation.

The drones had given up trying to catch you directly and instead surrounded the area, blocking off your escape. Several of the customs trolls had abandoned their booths and were picking their way through the maze, clasping their chosen weapons. There was a _wrrrzzing!_ and you duck, dragging Mhelli down with you, just as a laser bolt whizzes overhead. The troll with the rifle looks annoyed by the miss and charges up his weapon again. You take a closer look at the other trolls and spot several other ranged weapons being held. It won’t be long before they hit their targets. You.

You duck back down and continue to run under the ropes, finding it a little hard to breathe in your doubled-over position. Mhelli is right next to you, figuring it would be harder to hit a moving target too. You have an idea and dart to the left, heading straight for the crowd of trolls in the now stilled queue.

Aiming for a rustblood who seemed to be cheering you on you sprint at him and he moves out of the way, letting you and Mhelli slip into the crowd. This has the desired effect of blocking the customs trolls from getting to you, but it also happens to start a riot.

Suddenly the yelling and shouting that had been going on before becomes exponentially louder as you shove and push your way through the crowds. Your short but stocky build helps your movement but you can still feel claws swiping at you, trying to catch you before you move away through the press of trolls. Mhelli stays hot on your heels, using the gap left in your wake to keep up.

It’s not long before you don’t even know which direction you’re running in, the twists and turns you had taken confusing you, the crowd making it impossible to find any reference points. You stop in the middle of a crowd of lowbloods, searching for some way out of the crush of the crowd.

“Psst! This way!” One of the nearby trolls beckons you closer, his eyes wide and movements rushed. You make a split-second decision and go to him. He laces his fingers together and cups his palms up, making what is obviously a foothold. “Step on the shoulders and be careful of the horns. Good luck.”

You place your foot in his hands and he gives a slight shove up, sending you into the air and above the mass of trolls. Before you land face-first on the ground you get your other foot underneath you and step on the head of a random troll. They let out a yelp and twist around, causing you to slip and begin to fall. You step on another troll’s shoulder to catch yourself and the process repeats itself. Soon you are in a constant motion of falling and stepping from shoulder to shoulder as you wobble about and try not to impale yourself on someone’s horns

Once you pick up the rhythm you also pick up your speed, turning the motion into a lopsided run rather than a balancing act, stepping on the next troll before the first has time to react. You glimpse Mhelli out of the corner of your eye doing the same thing as you, albeit with a lot more grace and poise than you can manage.

From your higher vantage point you can see the edge of the crowds, you can see the exit. You make a slight adjustment to your course and aim right for the doors before realising that they had been sealed shut when the alarm had been activated. However an excess of momentum and a lack of crowds stopped you from changing your mind and you tumble off the shoulders of the trolls at the end and roll onto the floor. You quickly jump up, ignoring your bruised shoulder and scraped shin, and continue your run to the door before halting in front of the metal screen.

_Oh well done, you didn’t think past this part, did you? Now you’re trapped against a wall with the drones closing in and-_

_CLANG!_ Mhelli rebounds off the panel and the impact reverberates through the metal.

_-you’ve gone and dragged your best friend into it as well. How much worse of a troll can you get?_

You slam your fist against the screen door then turn around to face then encroaching customs officials and security drones. _You’re trapped with nowhere to go, no hope left. You may as well just give yourself in now._

“I’m sorry, Elli. This is all my fault,” you whisper, closing your eyes and slumping your shoulders. You feel arms wrap around you and at first you think that they’ve finally come to get you, that all your daymares are about to come true, then you realise that Mhelli is pulling you into a hug.

“It’s okay. I don’t bla-”

You hear another buzzing noise and you push Mhelli to the side, flinging yourself the other way as another laser bolt bursts where the pair of you had just been standing. You look up to see molten steel dripping from around a large circular hole that had burnt through both the screen and the normal door. You spend a second glancing between the hole and your friend, trying to process what had happened, then another scrambling up and leaping through the hole as drones and trolls alike run to try and grab you before you could make it out.

Mhelli dashes through the hole just after you, stifling a squeal as a drop of red-hot metal lands on her upper arm. You grab her other hand and tug on it, pulling her back into a sprint as you run away from the drones spilling out of the hole. Away from the blocky, grey building. Away from the sirens and clamour and shuttles.

Away from the only hope for the future that you have ever had.

 

* * * * *

 

Your name is ARTUON KURTIN and by the mother, the grub and moons above you are BORED. The excitement with that strange girl earlier was fun for a while, especially with the walking-on-crowds stunt, but once she escaped you lapsed back into your usual state of ennui.

You plonk back down on the stool at your allocated desk and quickly tap in the password to unlock the station, which had gone to sleep during the chase. The screen quickly lights up again and shows the information page on the tealbood who had caused all the commotion. You breathe a deep sigh, slightly regretting setting the alarm on a girl only a few perigees older than you but rationalise the feeling away.

_If she didn’t have anything to hide then she wouldn’t have run._

With a couple more clicks and a quick sketch of her symbol on an electronic drawing pad you send the incomplete customs report to the authorities, ticking the boxes on the automatic form that would have the drones after her even if she escaped tonight. Then you sigh again, cupping your chin in your palm and getting into your favourite working position before pressing the button to indicate that your booth is ready for business once more.

A perky-looking goldblood skips up to the desk. You do your best not to look at her. _This is going to be a looooong night._

*

Far, far away and deep underground a screen lights up. A warning flashes, calling the attention of one of the trolls monitoring the various devices that occupy the dark room. There are several worried stares, panicked checkings of regulation and agitated comments which devolve into heated arguments. Eventually a fumbling hand picks up an audio-communications device, holding it delicately with claws as if the device is about to explode.

A muttered conversation ensues and after the screen is checked, double-checked, triple-checked, scanned for viruses, proof-read for errors and eventually printed onto a sheet of paper a conclusion is reached.

The original screen continues to flash throughout this, the curving symbol blinking bright, bright red.


End file.
